Page 29 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)

Chapter Twenty - Thr ee

Shiloh

M y heart finally settles inside my chest. Shrieks fill the night air, while I remain standing in the dark, wishing I could say I feel shame or regret. However, all I feel right now is anger.

Fuck him. If he wants to treat me like a mistake, another shameful fuck, I hope I ruined him.

My legs ache from the run, my wrists are raw from the fabric rubbing into my skin, and my pussy aches, missing the stretch of his cock.

Despite the swirl of emotions, I stay put; if he wants to leave, so be it.

If he wants to continue to pretend that this doesn’t exist… I’ll do the same. Realizing that I need my phone, I walk over to the small patch of flowers that surrounds the tree and pick it up where I hid it. I would say I’m surprised to see the message notification, but I’m not.

I read the text.

Anonymous

Now I know your secret, it's time for you to find another.

My stomach drops. Confusion clouds my mind as I bring my brows together, scanning the woods. Suddenly, the darkness feels revealing. I wish I could type back and ask, but whoever is behind all this sends another message.

My phone buzzes in my hand as I begin to walk back to the club.

Anony mous

Follow the path to the red door, there’s a secret waiting for the light to shine on it.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I groan out, wishing my body didn’t feel the aftershock of Nico being inside me. Hating every minute that I spend dwelling on what just happened between us, and the bitterness that it left clinging to my throat. Choking me.

Souring my insides.

The bass from the music playing inside has the night bumping.

The trees swaying with the wind, sounds of skin slapping, and moans fill the darkness.

Then there’s that insistent feeling slowly curling its way up my spine, twisting my insides.

Alarm bells warning me, of what? There’s nothing here that could surprise me; I know for the most part what this club consists of, the corruption behind it. But tonight, something feels heavy.

Something feels off the closer I get to the doors.

I stop right before the entrance, noticing I’m still barefoot, my dress is split fully now thanks to that asshole, and my hips burn from his nails digging into me. Another message comes in.

Anonymous

Marco.

A name.

Buzz.

Anonymous

Marco.

The lights flash inside, soft music plays in the background. “Control,” by Halsey, comes through the speaker. The crowd has thinned out; only a small group mingles. I don’t stop, I follow that gut feeling that guides me, and I’m assuming soon, another text will drop.

Anonymous

Polo.

My grip tightens around my phone as it alerts me.

I’m getting closer. I stop at the top of the stairs, looking at the path that leads to the hall of red doors.

Why am I being guided downstairs? I look around, expecting someone to stop me.

It’s not like anyone is allowed here; this is for reserved parties, for cheating husbands, and whatever secrets you're trying to keep beneath the dirt.

My shoulders tense, my trembling hand moves to the rail as I slowly descend. The sounds of sex drown out the soft drift of the music. But what stops me in my tracks is the door at the end, still ajar. A familiar voice booms from inside.

My mouth begins to water as if I’m going to throw up.

The music fades, leaving only the sound of my heart in my ears.

I move silently through the hall, holding my breath as I near the end.

The cracked door allows a small sliver of light to spill into the darkness.

“On your knees,” my father's voice echoes. “Show me how good you obey.”

My hand covers my mouth to stifle the pathetic sounds threatening to spill out.

I knew the men cheated on their wives, but my dad fucking a petal?

No. I don’t think I can stomach that. I’m not sure I want to bear witness to his depravity.

Still, my body continues to move, and time ceases to exist as I draw closer.

I freeze.

Debating if I want to see what’s hiding behind the door.

Buzz .

Anonymous

Go on, see the truth.

I move one careful step, my hand clutching the device like a life vest. My lungs shrink in size, the air becoming harder to inhale, or maybe it’s my br ain trying to reconcile the man that raised me and the man whispering filth to whoever is behind the door.

My body presses slightly against the door, my eyes darting between the pieces of furniture.

Then I see my father as he undoes his pants.

I freeze when he shifts, exposing the truth.

My eyes widen, tears prick my eyes as I watch him caress his face.

My body fights the urge to scream. To rush in there and stop this from happening.

Shock takes hold of me in a vice grip, making me bear witness to the naked truth… My dad groans when Nico’s lips wrap around him, and a single tear rolls down my cheek as the contents of my stomach claw their way up my throat.

Heat rushes to my face, and my hands can barely contain the puke, not caring to disrupt the display before me. I run towards the bathroom, out of his reach. I hear my father mutter a string of curses, but by the time they reach the door, I’m gone.

I don’t make it to the bathroom before my stomach begins to empty its contents, bumping into a group of girls. I continue my path to the stall, pushing the door open, and my knees collapse.

My body heaves.

Purging everything into the bowl.

I sit back on the cold ground, the toilet flushes, but it does nothing to clear the burn in my throat or the image seared into my brain.

I slump against the stall, my fingers coated in vomit, and pull my legs into my chest as if I could shield myself from what I witnessed.

My body shakes violently, not from the cold, but from something much worse.

My father.

Nico.

I can’t make sense of it all. I don’t even want to try.

I wipe my mouth and then my hands. I stare at the scratched-up bathroom stall door as if it could give me any answers.

Of course, nothing is t here. Just the ghost of my dignity and the mess of what I thought I knew.

I think I start crying, or maybe I’m just breathing too hard to tell the difference.

Either way, my face is wet and my chest feels like it’s caving in.

Then

Buzz ..

My phone lights up beside me.

I flinch… too scared to look.

Still, I do.

Anonymous

Now you know the truth. Can you trust him?

I grip the phone so tight, I think I might crack the screen. I want to scream. I want to puke. Yet, all my body can do is remain frozen. I stare at the screen as I wait for another bomb to drop. Anything to stop the gaping wound from opening inside my chest.

Buzz.

Anonymous

The truth ain’t always pretty. That one is pretty ugly.

My stomach churns again, I let out a barky cough as I try to push back the sour acid climbing its way up my throat.

Like a snake it chokes me from the inside out, forcing me to swallow it back down.

I remain on the ground, drowning in my bile and shame.

Whoever’s sending these messages isn’t just watching. They are orchestrating.

Pulling the strings, like a fucking puppeteer.

And I’m just another player for them to use.

But why?

Why did I need to see this ?

Why him?

I force myself to stand, gripping the stall as my heart rips to shreds inside me.

The door feels like it might steady me. It doesn’t.

Still through weak knees I manage to stumble out of the bathroom in a daze, every step echoing in my head.

The club seems louder now, bodies grinding and light flashing. No one knows what I saw.

No one acts any different.

No one knows the sorrow I once again carry.

Except for whoever is texting me. Toying with me.

I can’t breathe.

I just have to make it outside, in here the walls feel like they are closing in on the verge of collapsing around me. I make it outside, the cold slapping me awake. I need more air. Why can’t I breathe?

I inhale.

Trying to force my fucking lungs to expand.

I need to get out.

Yeah. Get out.

My feet move on their on accord, I don’t even notice where I’m heading as I put distance between me and whatever the fuck that was behind me. I don’t notice the headlights, just notice strong hands that wrap around me pulling me back.

Through blurry eyes, I watch as a black car speeds down the street as I collapse to the ground.

There’s a screech. Then a horn after some shouting.

Someone curses from behind me, but I don’t bother to look. I can’t.

Buzz.

Anonymous

Next time you wont be as lucky.

I swallow hard as I finally find my voice to scream. My knees give out, my fingers tremble as I stare at the screen, and then arms wrap around me. The smell is unfamiliar, but somehow I feel safe. A deep, raspy voice speaks softly. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Zayden.

I look up at him, searching for answers within his face. Does he know? I want to ask him, but the words just won’t come out.

I don’t know who to trust.

Definitely not my father.

Not Nico.

At this point, not even my damn self.

Everything burns.

And in the distance, through the thrum of the music and the sour taste in my mouth, I realize that I’m not just part of the game anymore.

I’m the target.